Christmas In Icicle Creek: Home For The Holidays Read online

  Tristan gently stroked the puppy’s soft ears. Everything about his new little friend was warm and cute. Tristan wanted to throw out his schedule and spend his day napping and playing. He smiled. It’d been years since he’d given himself over to the delight of simple play and sleep. “Maybe,” he murmured.

  The pup poked his head out of Tristan’s coat and gave a little whine.

  “What is it?” his mother asked.

  “Yikes!” Shock spread through Tristan as warm urine expanded over his shirt and T-shirt. “He just peed all over me. I should’ve given him the chance to go before bringing him into the house. I didn’t think of that!”

  His mother laughed. “We’re used to plenty of manure around here. Don’t worry about it. Leave him in here with me while you go change, and then you’d best get him back to where he belongs. I’ll hold breakfast and feed the horses.”

  Tristan put the pup down and returned quickly in a fresh shirt before throwing the soiled clothes into the washer in the laundry room, which was next to the kitchen. He grabbed the keys to the pickup and scooped up the pup. “Thanks, Mom!” he yelled as he hurried out the door.

  Once in the truck, Tristan put the pup down on a towel placed in the passenger seat and started the engine along with the heater. Quickly, he scraped the windows while watching the puppy, who sat on the seat for a moment before plopping down and falling back asleep. He must’ve had a difficult night. How long had he been lost? The address on the tag was six miles away, and there were several inches of new snow on the ground.

  Tristan nudged the truck in gear and pulled onto the snowy roads that led through Icicle Creek. Checking his rearview mirror, he noticed the dawn chasing him. Last night’s clouds and storm were trundling off to the east, leaving before him a wonderland of fresh snow.

  In the dark of the night, while working against the storm to protect his apple orchard, Tristan had seen the snow as an enemy and a threat. He’d fought it with every ounce of his strength. Now, as the golden autumn light began flooding the purple night sky, spilling over the land and dimming stars, the snow glimmered like diamonds on white velvet, taking Tristan’s breath away in awe with its unblemished beauty.

  Tristan slowed the truck to take in the sights of the town of Icicle Creek while it lay sleeping and peaceful amid small snowdrifts and the new peachy sun. Nothing was open, except the coffee stand along the main drag. Tristan considered stopping but thought better of it. He had a special delivery to make. But as he came to the corner of town where the Christmas store was perched, Tristan brought the truck to a slow roll. He peered inside, but the store was dark.

  As a child, Tristan had loved the Christmas store. Every year, he’d visited its decorated trees with his mother, who made him promise not to touch anything. He did his best, but sometimes the beauty of a specific ornament or display would beckon his small fingers to make sure it was real. The smell of pine and fir would surround him as the boughs of the trees, some living and some fake, embraced him in their tall Christmas secrets.

  Tristan turned his attention back to the road. Sadness trickled into his soul. He hadn’t been in the Christmas store since his father died eight years ago, when Tristan was just seventeen. Christmas just wasn’t the same. He tried to love the holiday, but it didn’t seem to love him back no matter how hard he tried to embrace the spirit of Christmas.

  Crossing the bridge over Icicle Creek, Tristan placed his hand on the warm puppy and glanced at him. The little one was turned in his direction with big brown eyes full of sweet innocence, soothing Tristan’s painful memory. A warm attachment weaved itself into Tristan’s heart as he fondled the puppy’s ears.

  Placing his hand back on the steering wheel, Tristan turned left onto River Bend Road. Here, the houses each sat on at least an acre of land, surrounded by rich soil of the fertile valley. The creek backed up against the property of some homes, with gentle grassy slopes dotted with pine that led to the banks. All was covered in snow, and the newly plowed road hushed the sound of his vehicle.

  Tristan gently caressed the puppy as he read the house numbers. Finally, he came to the house that matched the tag. He swung the pickup around at the end of the cul-de-sac and looked over the home. It was fairly new and well kept. The large backyard was fenced with wire mesh and sloped toward Icicle Creek. Already the snow was disheveled. Someone had been outside. Tristan didn’t see any dog run or tie-down that would indicate the puppy spent too much time outside alone.

  Tristan let the truck move at a slow roll. It would be hard to give up this little guy. He wondered if he could ask for visitation rights. Then he laughed out loud. That was silly. If he wanted a puppy, he could find one at a local shelter. He didn’t need to visit someone else’s dog. He wasn’t that lonely … yet.

  Bringing the truck to a stop, a new thought crept into his mind. Maybe Tristan shouldn’t concern himself with visiting this dog. Perhaps he needed to be worried about what this little one’s family would think of him.

  Would he know this family? More importantly, would they know him and his recent past from just two years ago in Arizona? It was a tantalizing story. After all, how many people had the distinction of putting their best friend in jail while almost landing there themselves?

  He pushed the thought away. That was in his past now, and it should’ve dissipated like the Arizona heat he’d left behind as he’d traveled north to the safety of Icicle Creek. Instead, the memories and regret followed him, clinging to the cobwebbed corners of his mind and the shadowed places in his heart, reminding him that even though he’d escaped jail, there was no escaping the fact that his best friend languished there, and it was his interview with the police that helped put James behind bars.

  He swallowed hard and took in a gulp of air as he reminded himself he no longer lived in Arizona. Here, in Icicle Creek, he was better known as the high school football hero who threw the winning pass to clench the state double-A tournament. He was also remembered as Courtney Sanders’s lucky boyfriend. For most folks in Icicle Creek, that’s where their recollections of him stopped, and he was grateful for the reprieve. But some tense shard of reality fussed in the back of his head, and there was always the worry that somehow the news of his brush with the law would spill its shameful story, and the people of the community he loved would call him out with questions for which Tristan didn’t have any answers. That worry became burdensome with the concern of how any of this information would affect his mother and their orchard.

  The puppy sat upright, giving a big yawn before trying to cross the space of the bench seat and toward Tristan in his old Ford pickup to snuggle into Tristan’s lap, bringing immediate relief to Tristan’s worries. Sighing deeply, he ran his hands over the puppy’s face and soft ears. He was glad he found the little one’s home, but he was sorry to have to give him up. Their thirty minutes together had perked up his morning and given him the precious gift of forgetfulness, even if it was just for half an hour. Putting his arm around the pup, Tristan carried him as he made his way up the walk. “C’mon,” he said. “Let’s get you home.”

  The pup rode along in Tristan’s arms and remained settled while Tristan rang the bell. Immediately, a young woman answered the door. In spite of her frightful hair, blotchy red skin, and puffy eyes, Tristan recognized her immediately. Noelle Foster! Had it really been seven years since their high school graduation?

  Tristan guessed she’d been crying. Her clothes were rumpled and looked as if she had slept in them. She didn’t even look at Tristan. Instead, her eyes were riveted on the puppy, wide with joy and delight. “Sampson!”

  Tristan grinned. Sampson was the perfect name for this little one with the big paws. The pup wiggled out of Tristan’s arms and into the girl’s open embrace. She pulled the puppy close and snuggled her face in his neck for a moment. Tristan watched the scene unfold with delighted satisfaction. Any concerns he’d had for Sampson’s well-being diminished to nothing, and he was happy to be a part of such a joyful reunion.
r />   “Thank you. Thank you so much! He got away last night when we were playing in the backyard.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve. Soon, she was surrounded by her family, each of them celebrating the puppy’s return.

  Tristan took in the scene. There was something endearing about Noelle’s vulnerability over the possible loss of Sampson. He appreciated how she didn’t care about how she looked or the clothes she was wearing. She was so different from Courtney, who fretted over every little blemish and article of clothing.

  Noelle’s mother was the first to take notice of Tristan. “Please, come in,” she said as she encouraged her family to make room for Tristan, who stepped inside. “We’ve been worried sick about this little one. We were heading out in a few minutes. I’m glad you caught us at home.”

  Tristan caught Noelle’s eyes and watched her expression change. She blinked. “You.”

  Tristan’s mouth became pasty. Did she remember him from high school, or had she heard something about the fiasco in Arizona? “Yeah. It’s me. It’s good to see you, Noelle.”

  Everyone stopped talking and peered at Tristan, who wished the floor would swallow him whole as the jitters chased each other around in his mind. He was about to give a quick goodbye and make a hasty exit, but was stopped by the words of Noelle’s mother.

  “Why don’t you introduce us, Noelle?”

  Did Noelle pull the puppy closer, or was it Tristan’s imagination?

  “Mom, this is Tristan Burke. You know, Burke’s Orchards. We went to school together.”

  Noelle’s mother smiled warmly as she put out her hand. “Yes, of course. Nice to meet you, Tristan. Thanks so much for bringing our Sampson home.”

  Tristan breathed a little easier, appreciating her generous authenticity.

  “Where did you find him?” her father, Mark, asked. “Your place has got to be five miles from here.”

  Tristan relaxed a little more. “More like six. He was in the barn this morning, much to the unhappiness of one of our barn cats.”

  “Well, I’m just glad he found a warm place to rest up,” her father replied.

  Tristan exhaled and sank into a small measure of peace. Whatever they knew about him, the Fosters were choosing to be kind.

  Her brother, Cory, reached over and took the puppy from Noelle. “I bet this little dude needs a good breakfast.”

  Noelle’s mother agreed. “Let’s get him a boiled egg to go in with his kibble.” Noelle’s parents and brother left Noelle standing in the entry with Tristan, who suddenly became aware of how close they were standing. He could almost feel her sense of relief flowing from her in waves, and he could feel something else that was entirely his own. The earlier desire to flee was replaced with a bashful inclination to stay rooted right where he stood in order to continue feeling the warmth of her delight over having regained what was lost.

  Noelle put her hand to her face and rubbed her cheeks as if finally concerning herself with her appearance. “It’s been a tough night.”

  “I have no doubt,” Tristan said. “I wish I’d been able to bring him to you sooner, so I could’ve spared you.”

  Noelle smiled up at him. “That’s a kind thing to say. Thank you. Thank you so much for bringing him home. Can I pay you? Is there something—”

  Tristan continued to stand in his spot as if his feet had grown into the floor. He found courage in the warmth coming from Noelle’s eyes. “I won’t take any money,” Tristan said. “But there is one thing I’d like.”

  Recollections of Noelle flooded Tristan’s memory. They’d sat next to each other in many classes, and he recalled wishing to find some way to get her to talk. Even though he’d been dating Courtney, he’d always wondered what lived behind Noelle’s summer-green eyes. Now, looking into those same green eyes, he found his determination cutting through his fear of what she might know about him. “Will you meet me for hot cocoa or coffee at the Creamery one day soon?”

  Noelle’s eyes slid from his, and a small seed of disappointment began to sprout in Tristan’s heart at the refusal Noelle was beginning to form. He placed his hand on the door and willed his feet to move toward it.

  “I-I wish I could, but I can’t,” Noelle said.

  Tristan nodded, trying to kill the seed of disappointment. “I understand.”

  “Thanks, though,” Noelle said softly. “Thanks for bringing him home.”

  Tristan backed out of the door and nodded. “I’m glad he found me.”

  Noelle smiled, and in spite of her wayward hair and blotchy skin, her face lit up with a bright expression. “Me too.”

  Tristan nodded before closing the door behind him. It fit snug with the sound of finality. The disappointment fully flowered. He glanced back at the house. Sampson was in the floor-to-ceiling windows, paws up on the sill and giving him a yearning look, while Noelle had pushed the curtain back and solemnly watched him. Tristan turned his attention to the puppy. He would miss the little guy. Sampson made him smile, and after all he’d been through, that gift wasn’t something he took for granted.

  Chapter 3

  Later that morning, Noelle sat in her boss’s office, studying her fingernails. After Tristan returned Sampson, Noelle had finally fallen into sleep for a couple hours. The red blotches disappeared and a hot shower revived her, but her eyes were still puffy. Still, none of that mattered. With Sampson home and napping on her bed, Noelle didn’t have a care, and although fatigue dulled her brain and body, she was ready for her day as the desk clerk at the Fox Hollow Inn.

  Noelle was early today. Her boss, Sian, had asked her to come in fifteen minutes prior to her shift in order to meet the new employee. Noelle’s feelings were mixed about Sian and her husband, George, hiring someone new. In her opinion, their small, sixteen-room inn worked just fine with the three of them and the two housekeepers, Beth and Joy. She and Sian took care of the front desk on a rotating basis so Sian could manage the books and other business associated with running the inn. If the inn was full, she and Sian sometimes worked together during the busiest hours.

  Sian’s husband, George, took care of the maintenance and general upkeep, and from Noelle’s point of view, it was a great fit. Noelle liked the small-family feeling that came with working so closely with Sian and George, and she didn’t want someone else barging into that precious space.

  Noelle heard Sian finish checking out the customer at the front desk with her usual genuine and warm invitation for the guest to come for another stay.

  “Oh, we’ll be back,” the customer said. “We love this place.”

  Noelle smiled to herself. In spite of its many flaws, which included old furniture in the lobby and a need for new carpet in the hallways, the Fox Hollow Inn was a popular destination in the small mountain-and-river town of Icicle Creek. Noelle credited Sian and George for their sincere and warmhearted hospitality.

  Noelle looked up from her fingers as Sian walked through the office door, shutting it behind her. “How are you, my flower?” she asked as she embraced Noelle.

  Noelle warmed at Sian’s greeting, and her earlier fatigue retreated as she embraced the older woman. Sian had given her this nickname from the moment she’d started working with the older couple around nine months ago. Their usual greeting always reminded Noelle that Sian and George’s warm hospitality was real and extended far beyond the inn’s front desk. “I’m fine, Sian. How are things today?”

  “Busy as usual.” Sian sat down at her desk. Papers littered the surface, and a corkboard on the wall was filled with memos precariously held together by a few colorful tacks.

  Sian turned her chair to face Noelle. She was dressed in her usual fare for the season: a broomstick skirt, a peasant blouse, woolen socks, and sandals. Her long gray hair was pulled up in a messy twist with a pencil holding it together.

  “I’m sorry I’m running so late. I wanted to talk with you about our new employee,” Sian said. “I would like for you to help with the training.”

  Noelle shrugge
d with upturned hands. “I don’t know why we need to hire someone new. I’m more than willing to take on some extra hours.”

  “It’s so thoughtful of you to offer,” Sian said. “But we don’t just need someone on the front desk. George is needing help with maintenance. He and I are both getting on in years, and he’s needing a strong young man to work with him.”

  Noelle blinked. “You hired a man?”

  “Yes. Does that surprise you?”

  “I guess so. I-I guess I—”

  “Oh, here he and George come now. He’s a few minutes early,” Sian rose from her chair and opened the door. “I was hoping to talk a little about the training, but it’ll have to wait,” she whispered.

  Noelle turned toward the opening to find George standing next to—could that be Tristan Burke? She blinked at George as Tristan’s presence filled the small office.

  “Good morning to you, lassie,” George said as he reached over and kissed Noelle on the cheek.

  “Hey, George,” Noelle said. She tried to keep her focus on either George or Sian, but found her gaze wandering toward Tristan.

  “We’d like you to meet our new part-time worker,” George said as he presented Tristan.

  “Well, this is a surprise,” Tristan said.

  “How so?” Sian asked.

  Noelle’s palms began to sweat as she stood near Tristan. Earlier, there had been none of this kind of reaction, but when he’d stood in her entryway, she hadn’t noticed him quite the same way. She’d been focused on Sampson. Now, standing in the too-small office, it became obvious just how attractive he was with his shock of straight brown hair and a spray of freckles across his nose that gave him a boyish look. But it was his large blue eyes framed in dark lashes that caught Noelle’s attention. She wiped her hands on her pants as she cleared her throat. “Tristan brought Sampson home this morning,” Noelle said. “He got lost last night in the storm.”